Finnish Snipers
by Sam the Wise
Summary: The only memory Berwald has of Tino is a strangely familiar Finnish Sniper who seems perfectly content with gunning him down right where he stands. ( Adopted by katesmak )
1. Chapter 1

**This was written quickly on my tumblr so I'm uploading it now. I have some others stories to be written and completed as well. **

**I was in the mood to write something for my favorite anime. SuFin isn't even my favorite, but I had nothing else to write. I prefer more reluctant, badass sniper Finland anyway.**

**I was typing this and my computer reloaded so I had to type it again. I was sad. And this was rushed, so its not as good as the original. It will get better.**

**OH and btw, I suck at Swedentalk. Sooo... don't laugh.**

**Enjoy**

Three days they'd been fighting. Berwald wasn't sure why, or what for anymore. But they were. Tweny-six days prior, Denmark had stated that the Kalmar Union would be reinstated. No one knew why, not even Norway. Iceland had retreated back to his island before Mathias got a hold on him. Norway was too late and was now residing somewhere within the danes household.

Everyone scattered to stay away from Denmark, not not everyone was lucky.

As Iceland was now independent from Norway, and as Emil had no standing army of his own, Denmark quickly invaded Reykjavik, and poor Iceland was brought to stand beside his brother in the Union.

Finland, contrary to popular belief, was no coward. He had encouraged Berwald to prepare for the war that was sure to come. And though the Swedish government didn't want to waste resources, they agreed.

But upon hearing of Finland's plans, the armies of both Denmark and a reluctant Norway stormed Helsinki and burned it to the ground. The people were stripped of everything while the army Finland was so carefully preparing was absorbed.

Norway was the one to tell Berwald of Tino's demise. It almost destroyed him inside, to hear such things. Sweden and Finland had always had a rather stable relationship, and even when Berwald became insistent upon calling Tino his wife (Tino was adamantly against being called such), they still had a strong bond. So it hurt to be fighting them, the people loved by the only man who could make Berwald feel this way.

The finns were tough, tougher than the swedish soldiers had anticipated. Hundreds of his people were easily wiped out by no more than a dozen or so finnish soldiers, and now, Berwald was getting desperate.

The stories of finnish snipers appeared not much later, speaking of entire platoons being wiped out within minutes. Most claimed that it was only one man doing all the work. But Berwald didn't believe that. One man against many? That was the stuff of legends.

So, in an effort to retake Stockholm, Berwald set out with his own band of worn, weary soldiers to wipe out the finnish snipers.

Who knew it'd be so hard.

"There was something real bright, gunned down Staffan before we could even turn our heads! I saw it!" One of the rookies was listing off the possible location of the snipers, as well as the death count. Three of the scouting party, gone in a matter of seconds. The snipers were eager to show they were not to be messed with.

"Y' sure?" Berwald watched the panicky solder grip his hair in disbelief. Understandable, part of his party _was_ shot down, right in front of him.

"Yeah, just to the east. If he hasn't moved, I think I can take us to him!"

That was three hours ago, and Berwalds patience was wearing thin. But the young solider was certain that the tree's just up ahead held exactly what they were looking for.

And, as it turns out, the soldier was telling the truth. Hidden amongst the snow, rifle in hand, was their sniper. His shoulders drooped from exhaustion and his arms barely held onto to his weapon of choice. Apparently, he was tired enough not to have noticed the sneaking swedes not ten yards away.

Berwald, in one swift motion, pulled his pistol from its holster and held it up to the back of the finns head. "St'nd up." He said, earning nothing but an irritated grunt from the sniper. But he complied, setting his rifle down and standing up slowly, arms held above his head.

"Turn ar'nd" And the sniper did just thought, spare bullet dropping from between his unnaturally white teeth. Berwalds eyes almost bugged in shock at the sight.

"T'no?"

And there was their sniper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Remember when I said I sucked at Swedentalk? Yeah. Still do.**

**Don't make fun of me! I'm trying.**

****Tino wasn't one to brag, but considering how well he'd been doing for the past few days, the moment he finished up and went home was the moment he'd make sure everyone at camp knew of his accomplishments. Most likely to be met with groaning and plenty of eye rolling, specifically from the few Norwegian soldiers. Proving his worth to the competition? Completely worth it.

But seeing as the swedes had already caught up to him and left him no room to flee (not that such a thing was on his mind), camp would have to wait. No matter. Tino had nothing to say to them, he was too low on the food-chain to be blessed with such important information pertaining to the location of danish and norwegian troops...

"That's me." He stated simply in his usual please-just-leave-me-alone tone of voice, an attempt at making himself sound as bored as possible. Hey, it had worked once before, back Rovaniemi. What a nice city. He noted that once the war was over, that's the first place he'd go.

"T'no... how?" Berwald, now showing an uncharacteristic shock sloppily hidden behind bemusement, look nearly ready to pass out, right on the spot. Or at least sway and hope that the two solders behind him would keep an eye on the finn.

"How... what? How am I so good with the rifle? How did I find such a comfortable nest?" Tino tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the right, "How did so easily take down your soldiers?"

Berwald couldn't help but feel the pain it brought him at every word Tino spoke, yet how differently he shaped and put those words into action. _His_ Tino would never say such things. Well, not his per say, but the man himself. This Tino was so... he wasn't as considerate as the Finland the nordics knew, didn't have that happy shine in his violet shaded eyes. Yet all at the same time, this was undoubtedly Tino.

The taller man raised on hand to clear the mist fogging up his glasses, then took a second look, just to make sure. "How a'r y' st'll al'v?" He spoke softly, warily, as if saying the wrong thing would set Tino off. In response, Tino only stared at him strangely.

"I've... always been alive?" He peaked around Berwald to get a look at the soldiers. "He's your leader?" Shocking that someone so delusional would lead them. "Hey," Tino suddenly dropped his hands and grabbed his rifle, taking only a half step forward before one of the men behind Berwald whipped out his own rifle and fired a single shot, deeply imbedding itself in the finns shoulder.

"Hhh..." The pain took a moment to register, and when it did, it really did. His eyes bugged and the hand holding his rifle dropped the weapon in favor of his wound, bending over as if it'd ease the pressure. The suddenness of the shot startled even Berwald into action, spinning on his heel and spouting something in swedish to the guilty soldier, who nodded slowly and trotted away in the opposite direction.

Honestly, Berwald was just as confused as Tino was when it came to that soldier. '_What was his problem?'_ was most likely going through both their minds.

"Y' a'ight?"

"Alright? He could have killed me! Don't you have any control over those idiots? Honestly!" Tino's 'outburst' most definitely worried Berwald; Tino never got this upset unless the pain was severe.

"W' sh'd g't back."

It wasn't like Tino had any other choice. Either he died from blood loss out here, or trudged all the way back, humiliatingly, to the swedish camp, where he'd no doubt be harassed. Lesser of two evils, or something like that, he supposed. So he only nodded solemnly and followed Berwald back to the camp.

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Tino had made it an obsession to roll his shoulders back, relieving the pain for a moment before it came back in full force. And, as he could not do much, remained seated comfortably around a dying fire, while the few men still awake kept a careful eye on him. No surprise there.

They had also hidden their guns rather well.

No matter. Tino could entertain himself. Had he been unable to, he wouldn't have been hiding near the tree's for days on end. There had to be something. But considering that this was a camp, with enormous grey tens surrounding him and the small fire, the wilderness was no longer visible.

That left nothing. The embers of the fire would only catchy his eye for a moment before he moved onto something else, something much more lively. But this was a swedish camp. From what he'd heard in the past, the swedes weren't very lively people. Could be true or not, but he had yet to see otherwise. He was reaching down toward the melting snow to doodle with the tip of his index finger when Berwald came up behind him.

"Y' 'kay?" The voice knocked him out of his stupor, and almost startled Tino away from the fire. "S'rry."

Tino glared icily at him and folded his arms around his knees, careful to avoid bumping his shoulder. "Warn me when you're coming over. I'm a thinker."

Just as Berwald was to speak again, a second voice caught both of their attentions, coming from the crudely made entrance to the camp. There was a short man, his blue uniform frosted over with snow and melting ice.

"The General is coming," He was gasping, as if he'd run miles and miles just to get here; which he probably did, "he wants to see the prisoner!"

_Prisoner, huh?_ Tino smirked at the thought and stood to dust the snow from his winter clothing. Berwald, meanwhile, looked worried, if such an expression could be described as such. The finn looked up to him and gestured ahead.

"Lead the way."

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**I ****_totally_**** dragged that out just to piss everyone off. Don't worry, it's still building and will ****_hopefully_**** get more interesting in the next chapter. This also turned out shorter than I wanted, but I'm honestly trying not to rush it. I start panicking when I rush.**

**If its not interesting enough, you have the right to get very angry with me via a review.**

**Did I mention reviews? YEAH. Do it, it gives me inspiration.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't bite me I'm trying! I'm trying to east it into the action. Also, for some reason FF says there are less words than when I counted. I also sent it through a word counter saying there were more words than FF seemed to claim. So I don't know what's going on.**

General Almrik was a tall man, nearly as all as Berwald himself, with an ugly mustache that looked taped on rather than wholly natural. His head seemed to hang low, as if he'd been trying to stare at his feet and both his hands looked frozen in fists. Maybe it was the cold, or perhaps this was the man the soldiers whispered of. That was definitely not someone Tino would want as his commanding officer.

"This him?" For a moment, the finn had been sure that he was going to speak in broken sentences like Berwald. But he spoke smoothly, a tone that demanded respect. Or a punch in the face, should he visit a bar. Tino would know; don't speak up to the other patrons, and you'll be fine. Which was exactly why he wasn't much of a talker.

"Y's." Berwald gently, ever so gently (Tino would ask later why Berwald was treating him like that) pushed him forward to face the General, who leaned down to get right in his face, disturbing what he liked to call his 'personal space'. Oh well, he _was_ a prisoner now. Sort of.

"The Union doesn't use snipers. You must be pretty damn good. Or a pet." Was that how the swedes were treating the Icelanders, Norwegians and the Finns? Like slaves to their Danish overlords? Well, Tino personally thought the word 'overlord' sounded pretty cool, but it most definitely wasn't the case. They weren't subservient to anyone just... working toward a more important goal. So the embodiment of Denmark, Mathias, had said before they attacked Swedish territory.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Had Almrik been aware of Tino's... reputation, he'd know of his untamed need to spout what ever insults dealt him back out. Albeit in a more subtle manner, if he was careful. "Not like you helped us anyway. Too busy keeping yourselves safe to care. Don't have to worry about killing us, we're only _pets_." Tino spat the last word out, glaring venomously at the General. Berwald, shifting uncomfortably, spoke softly to the general in that language the finn very much detested at the moment, then moved to stand in front of him.

"Th's is g'tting us n' wh're." The general snorted in response and, unclenching his fists from their frozen state, made some sort of crazy hand movement that Tino didn't understand and turned away without another word. And that was it. Tino looked up to Berwald (which made him feel tiny in comparison) and said, "That's your General? Nothing compared to back home..."

"N't gr't, b't h's all w' h've." Tino took that to meaning 'all the rest of our generals are dead, so he's the last one'. They could just bump the chain of command. Then again, that'd lead to chaos if not done properly.

Tino scuffed the toe of his boot in the snow and turned away from Berwald before speaking again, "You guys hide your guns well..." His narrowed eyes searched the camp for the telltale sign of _any_ kind of weapon, but all he saw was a single semi-automatic handgun, resting atop an old crate. _Wait_... "You afraid of me?" If he made the right moves, at the right time, he probably could get his hands on that pistol...

Berwald shook his head. "No. J'st c'tious."

"Cautious. That pretty much translates to scared, you know. So long as I have this useless arm, I'm not going anywhere." _Anywhere without a gun_... He just needed to get closer to that crate. Maybe if he slowly inched towards it, Berwald wouldn't notice. "Sooo... what's with you and being gentle and actually _trying_ to help me? Well, not really helping." Berwald only shrugged and stopped, staring ahead to the far end of the camp.

"Y' r'lly d'n't r'memb'r?" The swede looked sad and a little hurt. Tino didn't recognize him in any way? How was it possible he was still even alive, after what Mathias' boss did to him? Berwald specifically remembered that day. How Mathias had attempted to convince his bosses to absorb Finland rather than destroy him. But that didn't work. And thus Mathias gave up and Tino was... what ever happened when Nations were killed. Lukas and Emil, Norway and Iceland, respectively, were forced to watch. As a warning. "Y' w're a fr'nd..." A _good_ friend.

Only a couple more inches and Tino would be free, the crate stand barely within arms reach._ Just keep the guy talking, he wont notice_... Once the finn was able to grab the pistol, he moved himself to stand in front of it and stare, with a forced smile, at Berwald. "A good friend, right? And so you'd never hurt a good friend?"

Berwald, with his ever present blankness, only tilted his head at this. "C'rse n't."

And he grabbed it. Tino reached behind him and wrapped his fingers tightly around the barrel of the gun, flipped it around so he held it properly with his finger on the trigger, and swung it out in front of him. Yet, throughout it all, he remained calm and precise. His eyes were focused solely on what lay around him, including the towering swede (who, he had to admit, was a little intimidating). He muttered something in his native tongue (he always refused to speak swedish despite the influence), then slowly inched away from the crate.

"Don't move. Don't get in my way. Keep your men off me or your skull wont have any more room for bullets." Tino heard himself _snarling_. It was almost frightening, but he was desperate. He wasn't going to idly stand by while his people were slaughtered. His left arm hung uselessly at his side. If he made it back, maybe it could be treated properly.

Berwald allowed his eyes to widen just by a fraction. What had Mathias done to Tino? This was definitely not the caring, somewhat gentle (to be honest Berwald had only seen Tino be gentle with small children; the finn could be threatening if he wanted to) finn that he'd always known. That scared him. "T'no?"

"Stop saying that! I don't know you! I never knew you! I'm not your '_fr'nd_', Im not your toy, I'm not your lover! Cut it out!" Tino was practically gasping for at this point. He needed to go before the other soldiers woke up. So he ran, straight out the entrance of the camp and waving the handgun at any soldier who tried to stop him.

The snow. He'd almost forgotten. But getting away was the only thing on his mind right now, putting as much space between him and the swedish camp as he could and hopefully make it home.

He also realized the gun wasn't even loaded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for taking so long to update, but I'm probably going to take more time to update, and will likely have some errors. Mainly because, one, I now have a new puppy, and two, I very badly broke my wrist, in three places playing hockey. But I will be posting updates on the story on my profile, if you're wondering. If you're curious about progress, check there.**

**I tried my best, hopefully it isn't just filler while my wrist heals. This could be considered a filler until I get to the better stuff but... agh...**

**PS. I won't try translating anything to Norwegian. Google translate sucks and I trust no body. So just... I don't know. Pretend for me.**

**On with the show, now, shall we?**

Berwald was mortified. He had nearly expected such things, played such scenarios in his head, but not expected them to play out. And most definitely not from Tino. Several times, Berwald had asked himself '_Is this Tino?_'. Of course he'd respond with a snort and shake his head. Yes, it was Tino, at least physically, and he'd prove it if he had to.

Tino would probably deny it. But maybe Lukas and Emil...

No. He trusted them, yes. But now that they were under Matthias' control, Berwald wouldn't go within miles of either of them. Unless... Maybe. Emil was the most distant from the rest of the Union. His job among them was weapon production. If anything, contacting Emil would earn him information on Tino's whereabouts once he returned to them. And, should Berwald build his own forces enough, perhaps he could free Emil from Matthias, and in the process gain a rather valuable ally when it came to supplies.

But it was all at the risk of forcing Matthias to get him, hard, in the near future. Freeing Emil would most likely also get him Lukas' support. Or his animosity, as he would no longer be able to watch over his little brother. If he was lucky, it would be enough to urge Lukas into rebelling, causing trouble within the Union's borders.

But for now, all he had to worry about was getting Tino home safely.

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For a moment, Tino couldn't remember where he was or why he was there. Training exercise was the first thing to flash through his deranged mind. One of Mathias' crazy training exercises for the foreign soldiers, meant to drill into their minds that they weren't invincible and very, very expendable. But, upon clenching his fingers, he noticed the gun wrapped in his free hand. Or, the hand he was currently lying on and had suddenly lost all feeling in. His wounded shoulder was no more than a dull ache that throbbed with the beating of his heart by now.

He looked on the horizon. Just barely could he make out the silhouette of one of the side camps stationed for patrol. Norwegian, from what he remembered. Tino never cared much to learn the language, so if he was lucky, they'd speak his. He trudged forward, and a half hour later he was at the front entrance, barred by iron bars and make-shift wooden fences. Tino pushed the gates inward. Loud. The creaking and shrieking of the bars against each-other and the ground was ear shattering and loud enough to wake the entire camp. But Tino was a lucky man, as one of the stationary soldiers to his right immediately took notice of Tino's uniform, nodded, then gestured for him to enter.

"You're far from Finnish territory. The next camp over, I believe." The soldier narrowed his eyes when he spotted the wound upon Tino's shoulder. "Wait here. We have a medic on standby. Should I send for him?"

"Yes."

The soldier nodded and stormed off to retrieve said medic. Meanwhile, Tino leaned gratefully against the bars of the gate, closing his eyes for just a moment. His vision swam and his head lost all weight for what felt like hours. But he wasn't surprised. Trekking for days straight trough the snow, with no supplies and less than two hours of rest was not the ideal way to travel.

When the soldier returned with the medic, who looked less than pleased to be bothered so late in the evening, Tino snapped out of his dizzying episode and strode forward to meet the man. They did not shake hands, and the medic refused to make eye contact. Whether it was timid or disdainful, Tino did not care. He simply wanted the blasted bullet out of his shoulder.

Midway through cutting the bullet out, the medic gasped and leaned away, with said bullet clamped between his fingers.

"Where were you after you were shot?" The medic asked, setting the bullet aside. Although he would have preferred to keep his location a secret, the way the medic spoke was.. unsettling.

"I was taken..." he paused to think of the right word, "Prisoner. A Swedish camp, miles south. What is the problem?"

"Whoever treated you left you... a gift."

After seeing the befuddled expression on his patients face, the medic leaned in and fixed Tino with a pitying gaze.

"Poison."

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**I'M SO SORRY. I wanted to get this out, sort of like a bridge between chapter 3 and the next chapter. A filler and I apologize if this isn't what you were hoping for... I will continue writing...**


	5. UPDATE

**So about twenty-percent in, I stopped and I just... I can't. My inspiration for this story has flown straight out the window leaving only a horrible case of writers block and self-pity. I love this story so much and had it all planned out, but no way of writing it down the way I want. I went through three drafts to get to where I was and still didn't like it.**

**Trust me, when I had it all in my head, it was going to be epic. But now... I don't know. I just completely lost my passion for this story and don't really want to continue. Plus I'm having some issues with a friend of mine and don't want to worry about getting you guys the updates you deserve. So here's what I'm thinking: **

**I'm considering adopting this story out. So if you're interested, please PM me. I would love to watch the progress you make that I could not, and hope that, if written by someone else, can turn out so much better.**

******I apologize. It may sound weird, but I had legitimate visions for this.**

**Thank you for understanding, you guys are awesome. **

**~Sam**


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